


Whisperer

by LindsayBay



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 06:05:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12834882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LindsayBay/pseuds/LindsayBay
Summary: Reader insert AU where Merle Dixon is a horse trainer. Romance with smut at the end.





	Whisperer

You look out the window as you take a bite of your eggs and notice a man in faded jeans and a chambray shirt walking Addie from the stable to the paddock. He has a coiled lunge line over one shoulder and a whip tucked under one elbow. His hair is close-cropped but seems to have a little gray at the edges.  “Have you got a new hand, Mom?”  


Your mother nods behind her newspaper. “Not that new, really. It’s been almost six months. Name’s Merle. He’s staying in the apartment above the tack room. He’s been working miracles with that bratty horse of yours. I can’t remember the last time she bit me.”

You finish up your eggs, grab your toast, and walk out to the paddock, leaning on the split-rail fence. Merle fastens the lunge line to Addie’s halter and feeds out about twenty-five feet. One crack of the whip and Addie starts walking. You always had difficulty getting her to wait for the whip, and could never get her to stay at anything other than a gallop. You can tell by the set of her ears that Addie wants to cut loose, but she stays obedient.

Merle turns as Addie moves in her circles. He’s a big-shouldered man, with long legs shown to advantage in tight denim and cowboy boots. He gives the whip another flick and Addie breaks into a trot. Merle moves faster and the wind lifts the tail of his shirt. Damn if he doesn’t have a nice ass for an older guy.

Another crack of the whip, and Addie bursts into a full gallop, kicking up her hooves and bucking in sheer glee. You can see Merle smiling. “Yeah, get it all out of your system, girl,” you hear him say. He gives her a good run, then points the whip down and snaps it. She immediately slows down to a trot. Another crack, and she’s down to a walk. One last flick of the whip and Addie stands still, letting Merle detach the lunge line from her halter.

He easily climbs the paddock fence, not bothering to open the gate. His glance touches on you and slides away as he gives you a curt nod. “She’s ready to be ridden.”

“You must be Merle,” you blurt out. Wow, what a sparkling conversationalist you are.

He looks at you again, taking in your short cut-offs, bare feet, and tight tee shirt. “And you must be trouble.” With that, he walks away, whip resting on his shoulder.

..............

Half an hour later, you’re trotting Addie down the long dirt road that connects your mother’s farm to the highway. You’ve missed this so much. First college, then your first real job and then--you cut your thoughts off right there. You’re here to decide what to do about your future, not dwell on the past.

You’re so deep in thought, you forget about the blackberry bushes. Addie doesn’t. They’re full of ripe fruit and the horse veers off into the ditch to get to it. “Addie, no!” There could be anything in this long grass. Intent on the delicious, tempting little berries, Addie ignores you, even as you saw on the reins.

You hear the crunch of glass a split second before Addie screams. She tosses you off her back and you land right next to the empty whiskey bottle that some asshole has left in the ditch. There’s blood on one of the shards.

Addie’s galloping for home, leaving a trail of red splashes behind her. All you can do is follow. By the time you get to the stable, Merle is calming the panicked horse. “Shh shh shh. It’s okay, girl,” he says as he grasps the reins. “Let me take a look.” He squats down and carefully lifts a rear hoof. You hold your breath for a second; Addie is a kicker. But the mare submits with docility. Blood oozes from a gash in her fetlock.

“Does she need stitches?” you ask.

Merle glares up at you. “Ya need to be more careful.”

You throw up your hands. “She wouldn’t obey me!”

“Ya had this horse for ten years!”

“I’ve been away.”

“Why ya even have a horse, then?” His deep blue eyes blaze with indignation. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to show a wedge of lightly-furred, well-developed pecs and the way he’s squatting down is making his thigh muscles strain against his jeans. His big hands cradle Addie’s hurt foot gently. This is one _sexy_ man. But he’s also pissing you off.

“Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?”

“Well, I ain’t no spoiled rich kid, that’s for sure.”

“Well, I _ain’t no_ kid. I have an ex-husband, for fuck’s sake.”

One corner of Merle’s mouth curls up, just a little. “How ‘bout ya make yourself useful and get some bandages and gauze and ointment? And some water and a washcloth. And a leg wrap.”

By the time you return with the supplies, Merle has the saddle and bridle off of Addie and is soothing her with the curry comb.

Wadding up a handful of gauze, Merle presses it to the wound until the blood stops flowing. He keeps up a steady, soothing patter as he works, “That’s a good girl,” he says in his soft, sandy voice, “You behave so well for ol’ Merle.” He washes the blood from her foot, applies the ointment, puts on the bandages and covers them with a leg wrap. Merle gets up and scratches Addie’s ears, just the way she like it. “Who’s my best girl?” Merle says just before he kisses Addie on the nose.

You realize that you are incredibly turned on.

...................

After that, you are constantly aware of Merle’s presence. Your eyes follow him as he replaces parts of the paddock fence, tinkers with your mom’s pick-up truck, pushes wheelbarrows full of horse muck out behind the old, falling-down barn. You know he looks at you, too. It makes you aware of your body in a way that you haven’t been in a long time. Your hips get an extra swing in them when you pass him by. You have conversations with him, about how Addie’s healing up, about the weather, about how your mother’s favorite mare is doing with her foal. It’s maddening how he manages to keep all conversation on a surface level, deftly deflecting your attempts to really get to know him with barbed humor. He must have a hundred different ways to call you a spoiled rich kid.

At night, alone in your bed, you thrash in your sweat-soaked sheets while you think about his body, his eyes, his hands, and the sound of his voice.

.........................

It’s an unusually hot, humid fall. Summer doesn’t seem to want to loosen its grip. One particularly steamy evening, your get in a fight with your ex over the phone. The argument starts over your tangled finances, then abruptly veers into the former love-of-your-life telling you that he’s engaged to your ex-best friend and ends with you flinging your phone so hard that you shatter the screen.

Agitated and fighting tears, you run out of the house. You almost slam right into Merle. He’s shirtless and carrying a bale of hay up on one shoulder. His bare chest is gleaming with sweat. “Watch where you’re going!” you yell as you run into the stable. You get into Addie’s stall and lean against her, pressing your wet face against her coat. You hear a sound and look up. “What are you doing here?” you snap.

“I’m here to give Addie some hay. Ya think I carry bales around just for fun?”

“Well, hurry it up.”

Merle drops the bale and pulls the twine off. He takes off a chunk from the compressed square of hay and, edging carefully past you, drops it at the far end of the stall, next to Addie’s water. When he moves to leave the stall, you grab him by the belt and yank him to you for a kiss. His mouth opens, you feel his tongue slip between your lips, and then he gently pushes you away.  “Ain’t gettin’ involved with the boss’s li’l girl.”

“Does this look like a little girl to you?” You yank your shirt up to show him your breasts.

His pupils dilate as he stares at them. “You’re still your momma’s li’l girl. She ain’t gonna want ya playing with the hired help, and I like it here.” He takes the hem of your shirt and pulls it back down, covering you up.

It’s too much, being rejected by another man. You let out a sob, press a hand to your mouth to stifle it. Merle hesitates for a minute, but then he takes you in his arms. “Shh shh shh. It’s okay, girl. No need to cry.” This unexpected gentleness only makes you cry harder. He rubs his hand on your back while he continues crooning to you, the same way he does to the horses. Even in this heat, it feels nice to be up against a big, hard, solid body like this. He smells of horses, hay, fresh sweat, and mint gum. You want to stay like this forever, listening to him telling you that you’re a good girl in that soft, grainy voice.

“Ow!” Addie has nipped you on the arm.

Merle moves away from you, laughing. “Someone’s a jealous girl.”

“Brat!” You tap Addie on the nose. She just gives you a horse laugh. “Smartass!”

The two of you move out of the stable. Merle turns, pauses. Flicks his tongue to his lip, gives you a slow grin that makes you suddenly feel like you need to change your panties. “Your ex is a fuckin’ moron.” With that, he saunters away.

...........................

There’s a gravitational force between you and Merle, like a planet and a moon. It’s a game you torture yourself with, finding ways to be close to him. When the weather finally cools, you help him stack hay bales around the stable for insulation. You pick up a spade and assist when it’s time to turn the compost. You hand him tools while he mends the chicken coop. Your conversations are innocuous, but hidden meanings simmer underneath the surface of the words.

One early winter morning, Merle calls to you as you pick the morning paper up off the veranda. “I wanna lunge Addie today. I’ll try to teach you how to control her. It’s about damn time you learned. Can’t believe that horse has been walkin’ all over you for ten years.”

He has the whip in his hand when you come out dressed in jeans, boots, and a parka. “Lemme see ya use this,” he says You take the whip from him and flick it. It makes a tepid little snap. “That’s all ya can do?” He takes the whip back. With just a small movement of his wrist, it makes a smart crack. He sees you giving him a look. “What?”

“That’s--that’s kind of hot.”

“What, this?” he cracks the whip again.

“Yeah.”

Merle grins wickedly. “You’re of of them, huh? Ya like this?” He flicks the whip and it snaps lightly on your thigh. You yelp, then giggle. He flicks it again and there’s a light stinging on your flank. “What about that?”

You hear your mother call your name sharply. “Uh oh,” you say softly.

“I need to talk to you,” your mother says in a tone of voice that you haven’t heard since you were in high school. You and Merle exchange rueful glances before you follow your mother onto the veranda.

Her jaw is tight and her arms are folded against her chest. “Either you stay away from Merle or I fire him.”

“Mom, I’m a grown-ass woman! I think I can make my own decisions about men.”

“He’s two years younger than me! He’s too old for you.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“Yes, I married a man old enough to be my father. And he dropped dead of a heart attack shortly before our second wedding anniversary.”

“And my husband left me before our second anniversary. There aren’t any guarantees, Mom.”

“You don’t know how hard it was for me. I never told you. I almost didn’t get to keep the farm because his family thought I was just a gold-digger.”

“Well, I ain’t got jack shit to my name, so no one’s gonna think your daughter’s a gold-digger,” Merle said, standing there on the veranda steps with his hands tucked in his back pockets, “maybe I’m the gold-digger.”

“Merle, this is a family matter,” your mother sighs.

Merle cocked his head. “Ya want me to leave, then?”

Your mother closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I just want my daughter to be happy.”

“She seem unhappy when she’s with me?”

“Damn it, Merle, that’s not a fair question.”

“I ain’t got money. I ain’t got a good family background. But you see me with them horses. You see how hard I work. Ya don’t think I’ll work that hard to be a good husband to your daughter?”

You spin around to face Merle head on. “Husband?”

He grins at you. “I ain’t gonna get down on one knee. Not my style.”

.......................

You follow him up the stairs to his apartment. It’s small, a bed and a kitchenette and a bathroom. He catches you in his strong arms, kisses you hard. You embrace him, burrowing your arms under his barn coat, loving how they can barely reach around his thick torso. The apartment is chilly, but you don’t really notice with the heat of his body against you. You sigh against his mouth. His kisses are making your weak.

He pushes your jacket off of your shoulders, then unsnaps your shirt. He peels off your bra and then wraps his coat around you with one hand to keep you warm while caressing you with the other. His fingers are rough from work, but they touch you softly, circling the tips of your breasts until they form stiff peaks. You sigh against his mouth.

Your hands work at the front of his shirt, undoing the buttons and delving within. You love how strong he is, the thick muscles beneath your palms, his soft furriness.

Your hands move lower to his belt buckle. He laughs softly against your lips as you tug it open. You unbutton his jeans and his hardness springs free. You stroke its velvety heat, loving the way his breathing hitches.

He abruptly scoops you up in his arms and throws you onto the bed. He pulls off your boots and your jeans, pausing when he sees a welt on your hip. “I did that with the whip?” He places his mouth on it and licks while he rolls down your underpants. You start to shiver and he pulls his sheepskin bedspread over you. You watch as he undresses, loving all of his body as it’s exposed to you, the nipples and and the stomach and the hip-lines and the thighs and the feet and the ass.

Merle crawls under the sheepskin with you and the two of you lay side by side, legs twining together. Your mouths meet again. His hand strokes and massages your back, slowly moving down to your buttocks and upper thighs. You feel yourself melting against him. You put a leg over his hip and the head of his erection nudges you. You roll your hips against his.

“We got all night, girl,” he says to you in that soft, raspy voice, “ain’t no race.” Which only makes you more eager. Growling, you grab his cock and rub it against yourself. He grasps your wrist and stills your hand. “Uh uh. Slow down. If you’re not a good girl, I’m gonna have to get the whip.” He starts kissing down your neck. Rolling you on your back, he disappears under the sheepskin, sucking on your breasts until you moan. He moves lower, licking down your belly until he’s at the juncture of your thighs, opening you with his fingers and stroking you with his tongue. He sucks on your clit until you start to feel weightless, lifting from the bed with your climax, and then he licks you clean.

Burrowing back up until his face reemerges, Merle kisses you, his face still damp with your juices. You grab at his hips and he seizes your hand again. “”Not yet. Why ya in such a hurry?” He strokes you with his fingers, slips two inside you, thrusts them into you until you come again.

“I want you inside me,” you whisper to him.

He moans a little. “Not yet. I’m gonna make you come again.” And he does, doing things with his hand that you’ve never experienced before.

When he finally makes love to you, your body is exquisitely sensitized, ready to go off almost as soon as he slides into you. “It’s so good,” you whisper, “it’s so good.”


End file.
